Whispers in the Dark
by Blood-Lies
Summary: The darkness is alive, and whispering evils to me. I should've guessed this from the start, your roses were never ment to express love. :Rated T for safety: Vamp. Fic:


**A/N: **Two new stories in one day! I have way to much free time! xD ANYWAYS, I give major hugs and love to whoever guesses the song that Inspired this! Forgive my terrible spelling and grammer errors!

Feel free to picture the girl as whoever you want.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the twisted idea behind this...

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**W H I S P E R S _I N _T H E _D A R K**

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Setting at my vanity, the window allowing a cool breeze to sweep throughout my room, leaving my with a brief shiver. I do not shiver because of the wind, I shiver because I know he's coming. His shadow catches me off guard, I always forget his reflection. Always. I see now, from the mirror, a small smile tugging at his pale lips, amusement in his cold, dead eyes.

Some people could argue that the darkness in the world has no reflection, that immortality has no face, that forever is only a short span of time, and that the dark can never whisper evils to you while you slumber. I could aruge they'd be wrong. Because for me they are; for me they are deathly wrong. I am never alone in the dark, never ever.

A smile. A simple smile forms over his pale complection, my breath caught, and I swore my heart stopped, at least for a moment. Then the smile was gone. Like water washing away our sins; as if they never existed. He inches closer to me, a single crimson rose in his hand. I know what he wants now. A rose he offers, as a symbol of his 'love'.

He sweeps his hand across my collar bone, then traces from my jawline, down the side of my neck, to the end of my shoulder, as a puppeteer would study his grand creation. I am his marionette. I have long since gotten over the temporarily fear of him, how could you be afraid of a red haired, aqua eyed boy who brings you roses? There's an unmistakable glint in his eyes, this is all just a game to him. He told me, on our first encounter, that they were people of deceit, that they were not to be trusted, and yet I trusted him.

Emotionless, I sit, staring at my reflection as he bends towards the crook of my neck, and nuzzles his nose against my throat. For some reason my heart jumped, and my blood ran cold, like something horrible was going to happen. 'How long will this last?' I want to ask. But then, puppets do not speak unless their masters commands them so. He places a light kiss to my jugular vein, I shudder, I see his lips draw to a smirk.

"This will all be over soon." he whispers in my ear as fingers twist into my hair, pulling my head to the side, fangs pierce the soft flesh of my neck. I feel only a small amount of pain from the bite, I've become too used to it. I find what he is disgusting, yet wonderful all together. But do I love him, like he believes me to, I do not know.

A pain erupts in my heart, as blood is being drawn from my body with force, it feels cold...but at the same time it feels hot. Eyes slowly closing from blood loss, or lack of sleep, I then feel my own blood run down my throat, past my collar bone, and stopping once its reaches black lace. I feel no pain still, it almost feels as if a deep coma-like sleep will take over my being.

'Oh god, I'm dying!' is the only thing that runs through my mind, but just as quickly as it entered, it's gone. I've tricked myself into believing he would not let me die, I've fooled myself into believing that the damned, could love.

My head is spinning from loss of blood, my eyes are barley opened, and my breath is forced. Sleep wants to take over now, but I know when I give into the darkness, there is no coming back. No sunshine, no crimson roses, no birds singing, and no whispers in the dark. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad, just maybe.

I suppose I've made my death bed already, by allowing this to begin, so now I'll have to die in it. I realized long ago that this was a never ending dance between the two of us. I had always hoped is would turn out different though, so I can't help but feel a little relief when he retreats his fangs from my blood soaked throat and releases a content sigh.

I was wrong. There is no hope when it comes to the damned. Never ever.

Without his arms to support me, I fall from the stool I was setting on before he arrived. Landing on the cold wooden floor, through half-lidded eyes, I see him wipe his mouth of my remaining blood, spare me a glance, then turn towards my window once again. A final curtain call if you will, this dark dance may finally be ending.

And then he's gone. All that's left is the smell of spilled blood, roses and my own salty tears. Why do I cry? I knew it would turn out this way.

After all, he once said that his love would cover me in crimson roses, and now it has.

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End file.
